


Skate With Me

by LavedaVida



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, a figure-skating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavedaVida/pseuds/LavedaVida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But now it was all gone. All that was past. The rink had moved on, had taken Enjolras under its wing as their new prodigy. And Grantaire, he could still drive the zamboni. They let him skate there for free whenever he wanted.</p>
<p>(He rarely wanted.)</p>
<p>(It hurt too much.)</p>
<p>(Not the ankle, not the injury.)</p>
<p>(His heart.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skate With Me

Grantaire watched the other man move with grace across the ice, leaping and spinning, the blades strapped to his feet moving across the slick surface that he had just swept clean.

His ankle throbbed, and he looked away.

He always ended up looking away.

It was painful, watching the other man. The man who skated on ice with fire in his veins.

The man who looked like an angel with every turn.

The man who had replaced him as the rink’s darling.

He didn’t resent him. He could never resent him. The accident hadn’t been Enjolras’ fault. Enjolras hadn’t even been skating there at the time. He hadn’t even lived in the city. But Grantaire had. He had grown up on this ice, had learned to skate before he could walk, had spent every waking moment here since he was three years old.

But now it was all gone. All that was past. The rink had moved on, had taken Enjolras under its wing as their new prodigy. And Grantaire, he could still drive the zamboni. They let him skate there for free whenever he wanted.

(He rarely wanted.)

(It hurt too much.)

(Not the ankle, not the injury.)

(His heart.)

"Hey! Uh— zamboni guy. I don’t know your name, sorry."

Grantaire looked up from his reverie. He was still perched in the zamboni, and he stared down past the fence surrounding the rink at the person speaking.

"My name’s Grantaire, but everyone calls me R. What do you—"

"Grantaire?" Enjolras’ eyes were wide.

"Uh… yeah. Grantaire."

"As in the Grantaire? The Grantaire who skated here and who everyone talks about and who was well on his way to the Olympics before—”

"Yeah. That one. What did you want, Enjolras?"

"How did you know my name?"

"Who doesn’t, around here?"

Enjolras ducked his head. “I was wondering if you’d do another run over of the ice?”

"Sure. Whatever floats your boat. But you’ll have to get off it, first."

"I know. I’ve been skating since I was two," laughed Enjolras, smiling at R.

R didn’t return the gesture, he simply turned on the zamboni and pushed his way out onto the ice.

 

~~~

 

He laced up the skates, ignoring the twinge in his ankle. It had been so long. So, so long. And watching the kids rush by during free skate, the teenagers leaping during practice, Enjolras flying during his dances… Well, the need to skate had rushed back to the surface. 

He wobbled as he walked toward the rink, and he winced with every wobble. The ankle wasn’t as bad as it used to be, but it had been so long since he’d even stood in skates, let alone gone out onto the ice.

But today he was determined.

He reached the ice, and pushed off the wall. His ankle throbbed, but he couldn’t bear to pay attention to it. Not today. Today he needed to fly.

And fly he did.

It was nothing as fancy as he used to do. Nothing like he wanted to do. But he skated, really skated for the first time in months. The chill in the air nipped at his arms, but he didn’t care because for the first time since the injury, it felt like the fog was lifting and he was himself again.

It was all a fog, really.

The fall.

The break.

The hospitals.

The physical therapy.

The one moment that wasn’t a blur was being told he’d never really skate again. That was the one moment that stood out, the one moment that still made his stomach churn when it came to him, the moment that plagued his dreams and his thoughts.

That he remembered.

But the fog was lifting, and he knew it was a temporary reprieve, but he didn’t care. He could feel the skates rubbing against his feet, reawakening old callouses long forgotten. The ice rushed under his feet, the air rippled through his hair as he zipped along, twisting and turning, attempting the occasional small leap on his good ankle.

He let out a laugh. A real laugh, one that he hadn’t felt like releasing ever since he’d lost himself.

"I looked you up online."

R skidded to a stop, whirling around to see Enjolras leaning against the fence. He was wearing a red Musain Ice Rink hoodie that matched the one R wore, and his curls were messy and windswept. R looked away.

"You were— you are really good. I know that you had an injury but… you can hardly tell. It’s like you were made to skate."

"I was," R said, softly.

He heard the gate open and close, and then the rush of metal on ice, and then there was Enjolras right in front of him.

"Should you be skating?" Enjolras asked, quirking up an eyebrow at him.

"Just ‘cause I can’t skate professionally anymore doesn’t mean I can’t do it for fun," snapped R.

"Your skating is beautiful," Enjolras said, softly. "I never realized— I only ever saw you up on the zamboni before. You were always there, always watching… it never even occurred to me that perhaps you were more than just the zamboni guy."

"The rink is my home," R said, skating away from Enjolras. The golden boy followed.

"Skate with me," said Enjolras, suddenly. "Not just having me follow you around the rink but really skate with me. Like you used to. I mean— you know your limits. Stick to them. But let me skate with you. Let me… let me help you."

R let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t need your help. I can skate on my own.”

"Not like you used to. I saw you out there, R! You were… stunning. And I mean now, not just in the videos. You were simple, but elegant and beautiful and…"

"I don’t need your praise, Enjolras. I know I’m broken, I know I’m not even worthy of stepping onto the ice anymore."

Enjolras gaped. “You’re a beautiful skater, R. Even now. Especially now. I’m sure you could—”

R spun around and faced Enjolras, his eyes narrowed with rage. “Don’t tell me what I ‘surely could’. You don’t know a thing about me.”

The gate banged behind him, echoing across the almost-empty rink, leaving Enjolras alone on the ice.

 

~~~

 

"I want to start physical therapy again."

"What? But sweetie—"

"Don’t ask questions, Mom. Please," Grantaire said. "But I want to start physical therapy again."

"Grantaire—"

“Mom.”

"Okay. Okay, of course."

 

~~~

 

"With a lot more work, there is the possibility that—"

"Really?"

"Really. It’d take a lot of work, Grantaire. A lot of work."

"But I could—"

"Possibly. Hopefully. It’s healing better than we thought. The Olympics are a no-go, but…"

"But?"

"You may be able to start it up again. Start small."

"Will it take long?"

"Longer than you’d like, young man."

"I’m in."

 

~~~

 

He didn’t come to the rink for weeks. He took a leave of absence from work. The summer warmth ticked by, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was the cool air of the rink.

Soon, they said.

Give it time, they said.

Don’t do anything drastic, they said.

Start small, they said.

 

~~~

 

"Am I ready?"

"As you’ll ever be. You’ll never go to the Olympics. But you can go out there again for real, at least for a little bit here and there. Nothing like you used to do. But you regained much more use than we thought you would."

 

~~~

 

The next time Enjolras saw him, summer had left and school was back in full swing. Yet here he was at eight AM on a Saturday, skates strapped to his feet, the signature red hoodie in place, and Enjolras’ coach standing on the ice beside him calling out encouragements.

"What’s going on?" Enjolras asked, walking over to the fence and leaning over to talk to Valjean, the coach.

"He’s skating again," Valjean whispered. "He can’t ever do it professionally again, but… well, he’d make a great teacher someday. And he’s able to go out there and skate. Really skate.”

Enjolras bit back his grin. He remembered the last conversation they had had. Of course he did.

When Grantaire finished the routine he’d been trying— something familiar, probably from his early skating days before he tried anything too difficult. His face was glowing.

"You did great, Grantaire. It’s time for Enjolras’ practice but… It’s great to see you back, R."

R beamed. “It’s great to be back,” he said, softly.

When R passed Enjolras, Enjolras reached out and grabbed his arm. “Valjean was right. You’re good. You’re… amazing, really. Even after an injury like that.”

"Thanks," R said. "For… well. Everything."

"Don’t thank me," Enjolras said, looking away. "I, uh— I have practice but… do you want to do breakfast, when I’m done? I get out at nine-thirty, and—"

"I’ll be in the zamboni booth," R said.

"See you then?"

"Absolutely."

R watched the other boy walk off, and he bit back a grin. He wasn’t perfect. He’d never be the skater he’d been before. But he was back on the ice again. And if he’d been reading the situation right, well… he might just have a date.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://www.the-strangest-sea.tumblr.com)
> 
> I hope you guys like it! My knowledge of figure skating basically comes from that Disney movie "Ice Princess" so I apologize for the lack of details about the actual skating bit.


End file.
